


Issue

by Sinful Words (MontanaHarper)



Category: Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M, caveat lector
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-18
Updated: 2004-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-11 20:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Sinful%20Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One story told in eight drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Issue

**Author's Note:**

> _Caveat lector._ Seriously; I cannot emphasize that enough.

Hannah pulls her fingers back just before they slip into her mouth. She's always teased Lij about his nail-biting habit, calling him a neurotic loser, and she's not going to let anything—not even this—make her into one, too.

Her gaze slides away from the table like negatively charged poles of a magnet being brought together. She checks her watch, the second hand ticking forward slow as molasses and yet unnaturally fast at the same time.

When the three minutes are finally up, she reaches blindly for the white plastic test stick, tilts it to see....

Two lines. Fuck.

* * *

Henry waves them out of the kitchen, announcing that Thanksgiving dinner prep is his territory, so Hannah follows Viggo out to his studio, eager to see what he's working on.

The half-completed canvases are beautiful.  
- _like Viggo's eyes when he smiles_ -  
They make her feel warm inside  
- _like Viggo's hands sliding up under her skirt and lifting her with ease_ -  
and take her breath away.  
- _like Viggo's cock pushing inside her as he lowers her down, her legs wrapped tight around his waist_ -

If Henry notices the paint smears on Hannah's skin and in her hair, he doesn't say anything.

* * *

She gathers everything up—the instructions, the traitorous test strip, the foil packet it had come wrapped in—and stuffs them into the purple and white box, then slides it into the pocket of her coat.

Her vision blurs and she barely remembers to grab her purse on the way out the door. At the end of the hall, she opens the garbage chute and dumps the whole thing down, as if getting rid of it will make it all a bad dream.

The doorman looks like he might say something, but she turns away, walking quickly in the cold.

* * *

It's not her farewell party, but Hannah's leaving too and she doesn't see why Lij's friends can't be hers as well.

When she pulls Dom into the bedroom and pins him against the door, tasting the smoky flavor of scotch on his tongue, she thinks this is probably something Lij hasn't done. Probably. And that makes Dom hers in a way that he's not Lij's.

When she pushes Dom to the floor and straddles him, hitching up her skirt and sliding down on his cock, she's marking him. Branding him with her cunt in a way Lij never can.

Hers.

* * *

Shaking fingers pull the pack of cloves from her purse and she's got one halfway to her lips before she realizes, lets it drop to the ground.

She has to think about these things now. She has to be responsible.

She doesn't _want_ to be responsible. She's just twenty, for fuck's sake; she shouldn't _have_ to be responsible.

By the time she gets to Starbucks she's changed her mind about wanting a latte, and the smell of coffee brewing makes her nauseated anyway so she keeps walking, across the street and into the park.

Around her, snowflakes start to fall.

* * *

The apartment is wrong. There's nothing of home about it, nothing familiar. Except Lij.

Hannah crawls into his bed in the middle of the night, wrapping herself around him and trying to draw some of his heat into herself.

Still half-asleep, he rolls over and cuddles her to him and everything is all right again. The brush of his breath across her temple is familiar, and his cock is hot and hard, first in her hand and then sliding inside her as he shifts to pin her to the bed.

"I've missed you," she whispers into his neck.

"I'm here."

* * *

The air is thick with snowflakes now, and she knows she should be cold but she's not feeling anything at all. She wipes snow from a bench with her bare hand and sits.

Viggo? Dom? Lij?

It could be any of them. She's been so fucking stupid; she knows to use condoms. Always.

It's like her brain is shut off and she can't think, can't figure out what to do. She can't turn to her mother—it would break her heart—and she can't get an abortion. She's not Catholic anymore, not really, but....

And Lij can't— _can't_ —know. Ever.

* * *

Hannah stifles a laugh at Dom's panicked expression. Shouldn't she be the one who's panicked? After all, she's the one having the baby.

Another contraction hits and she knows her fingernails are digging into Dom's hand but she can't seem to relax her grip, and then she's focused on pushing and everything else fades away.

Later, sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, his attention focused on the pink-wrapped bundle in his arms, Dom says, "You can still change your mind. Keep her."

Hannah shakes her head. Even if she wanted to, she can't. "You'll make a great dad."


End file.
